A love that never dies
by MLaw
Summary: A journey into Napoleon Solo's past Written for the Valentine PicFic Challenge on Section7mfu, Live Journal. The prompt was Sting's "Fields of Gold"


_He was only nineteen when they met. She was standing there, dressed in her plaid poodle skirt, white sweater and a pair of saddle shoes she wore at the local soda jerk. Her sandy colored hair was pulled up in a ponytail tied up with a red scarf._

 _Napoleon Antony Solo was a hot blooded young man and never wasted any time chasing the girls. He lost his virginity when he was sixteen, to of all people, the family nanny who was more experienced than she let on._

 _His parents weren't around that much, though Aunt Amy was and she being bit of a liberal Auntie Mame bohemian type, didn't exactly set many boundaries in her favortie nephew's life. She'd filled him in on the birds and the bees, cautioned him about getting a girl pregnant; yet she demanded he comport himself as a gentleman...a well dressed gentleman at all times who treated girls with respect._

 _Napoleon wasn't a bad kid though, and definitely knew right from wrong, but he just pushed his luck sometimes, simply because he was lucky._

 _He'd graduated high school with good grades and had finished his first year of college, though he hadn't declared a major yet. It wasn't like he wanted to go into the family business since dad was in the Army and mom was a retired teacher at a women's college. Then again with one grandfather who was an Ambassador, and the other an Admiral in the U.S. Navy, he had some options._

 _Choices, choices...just like girls, choices._

" _Hi there," Miss Ponytail actually spoke to him._

 _Napoleon was never one at being at a loss for words, but this time he was. He crinkled his nose, but couldn't speak. That was a different experience for him, especially when a girl was involved._

" _Do you mind if I sit with you, there's no other chairs... hello? Cat got your tongue?"_

" _Oh hi, yes please," he blushed. He was never one to be shy but right now that's how he felt._

" _So he does speak."_

 _She smiled at him and he found her it dazzling._

" _Are you always this talkative?" She sat down, setting her chocolate soda in front of her._

" _Are you making fun of me?_

" _No not really. What's your name?"_

" _Napoleon, what's yours?"_

" _Joana. Napoleon, now that's different name."_

" _It's a tradition in my family, all the males are named after strong leaders from history."_

" _Well I was named after my great Aunt Joana who was a strong woman with a history."_

 _That broke the ice. The two of them laughed, and sat there for hours staring into each other's eyes, and several chocolate sodas later they made a date to go to the movies on Saturday._

 _After that they saw each other nonstop, day after day, week after week, and that turned into months._

Napoleon was smitten, and knew she was the one. He finally got up the nerve and proposed. Joana said yes and they eloped, as it made life less complicated..

 _He'd get a job, and so would she and they'd make it on a shoestring budget. Though his parents had money, Napoleon was determined for he and his wife to make it on their own. They were determined, and in love._

 _Her parents weren't happy, not about Napoleon but about the fact that they didn't get to see their only daughter get married. They welcomed their new son in law with open arms._

 _Napoleon's parents and siblings weren't back from Europe yet, and neither was Aunt Amy, so none of them even knew what the eldest Solo boy had done._

 _He was the happiest he'd ever been in his life, strolling hand in hand with his joana. He'd pulled his car over beside a rolling field of barley swaying gently in the West wind._

 _The sun smiling down on her face made her look like an angel to him as he pushed her in the tree swing she begged to try out. How could he refuse her? Napoleon smiled as she watched delight as she swung back and forthe; her long hair blowing in the breeze._

 _He stopped the swing and lifted her down, and taking her by the Napoleon walked with her out into the field the surrounded them._

They stopped, and he took her in his arms; her hair swirled around her face like a halo as he lowered her down; hidden by the stalks of barley.

" _Be my love forever," he whispered to her._

" _Always,"she whispered back."Every time we see a field like this we should think of each other. Ours is a love that will last forever."_

 _They were so young, just kids and a little naive, but they meant every word they said to each other._

 _Napoleon envisioned someday, their children running in such a field as the sun went down. The sun, perhaps jealous of his lady love._

 _She lay back among the barley and he felt her body rise as he leaned down and kissed her; it was there they made love…_

"Napoleon! Wake up my friend," Illya called. They'd taken refuge in a field, hiding from their pursuers.

Solo passed out and Kuryakin was having trouble waking his wounded partner.

The American's eyes finally fluttered open; for a moment he was disoriented as to why he and Illya were there in this field. All he wanted was to return to his dream, to walk with Joana again, to hold and kiss her one more time.

It was in a field like this, that was the last time he'd made love to his wife before she was killed that day in a car accident.

Someone in a pickup truck ran a red light and slammed into the young couple's sedan; neither Joana or the other driver survived.

Napoleon was in the hospital for three weeks, and a widower at the age of nineteen.

He finished college, but still feeling lost; he joined the army. And then the day came when Alexander Waverly found and recruited him to UNCLE.

"I'm back Illya," he whispered.

"Back from where?" The Russian asked.

"No place." He never told Illya he'd been married once. It was a secret Napoleon wanted to keep all to himself, so the memory of Joana would be his and his alone.

He sat up, composing himself, but still his dream called to him.

"Yes Joana, I'm thinking of you in this field of gold like we promised." he whispered to himself.

No matter how many women he had in his life; she'd always be his first and only true love. Maybe someday when his time came, he'd walk with her again amongst the barley.

After all, theirs was a love that would never die...


End file.
